


Tilting At Windmills

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Out of Character, Prostitution, Shounen-ai, Vigilantism, Yaoi, see chap 2 for original plot bunny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by Kitty Chou--"Heero was a dreamer."But such a simple statement left so very much unsaid. Heero was more than a dreamer. He was... a man. A man with a dream, yes, but it was much more than that. It was... a mission, a quest, and an impossible goal so overwhelming that it had, in the end, killed him. And while even now my wounds may still be too deep, I'd like to think I loved him for it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \----------  
> Warnings: Angst, deathfic, 'medieval shounen ai-ness', OOC  
> Author's Notes: Okay, READ THIS, because otherwise, you might miss something potentially important.  
> \- First off, this is Plot Bunny #3, "The Impossible Dream", from Dacia. She's so good! *huggles Dacia*  
> \- Second, this isn't the happiest fic... which is why you may or may not need tissues. I dunno... I personally am a very non-teary person... so I suppose it all depends on you!  
> \- Thirdly, Trowa's last name is Bloom because I needed the REAL Trowa Barton (oh shush, no singing), who I'm simply calling Barton.  
> \- Fourthly... if that is a word, this is a big time jump story... so every time you see '+' , you've just jumped forward in time. It can be as little as a few seconds to hours and hours. I don't think it jumps days... but it does occasionally switch from morning to night.  
> \- And finally, I made Sister Helen, Mother Helen, since she's running the church now. You should note that I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about when it comes to the Catholic Church (or any church for that matter). So that's why Mother Helen gets to run the confessional. I've intended no offense to any religious practitioners, but if I have caused any, I'm really very sorry. Okay? Got all that? Good, then read on!

_"To dream the impossible dream,  
to fight the unbeatable foe,  
to bear with unbearable sorrow,  
to run where the brave dare not go.  
  
To right the unrightable wrong,  
to love, pure and chaste, from afar,  
to try, when your arms are too weary,  
to reach the unreachable star." _

-"The Impossible Dream", Man of La Mancha

+

"Heero was a dreamer."  
  
That was what they said of him when asked years later in hallways or round holiday fireplaces, stacks of paper and wine glasses in hand. The inquirer would laugh politely, as if it were an inside joke they'd shared, only to let the laughter die lamely as they realized it was said in all seriousness. Often, things fell silent from there as they became lost to thought and memory, nostalgic and perhaps confused, but never truly sad. After all, none of them had been touched so deeply by 'the dreamer' that they should feel heartbroken.  
  
But such a simple statement left so very much unsaid. Heero was more than a dreamer. He was... a man. A man with a dream, yes, but it was much more than that. It was... a mission, a quest, and an impossible goal so overwhelming that it had, in the end, killed him. And while even now my wounds may still be too deep, I'd like to think I loved him for it.  
  
+  
  
"Hey, Chang! Where are my ribs?" Detective Trowa Bloom called above the din of Shenlong Barbeque and Grill, his allowing his visible eye to drift from the TV as a commercial interrupted Monday night football.  
  
An irritable Chinese man with flyaway hair pulled into a tight black ponytail poked his head out of the hole between the kitchen and the bar, glaring fiercely at the detective. "Keep your eyes on the game, you redneck pig! Your food is done when it's done and not before!"  
  
Trowa laughed, raising his bottle of Red Dragon in a mock toast to the cook, nudging the man beside him with the movement. "Ah, sorry, Heero," he apologized, clapping the man on the back.  
  
"Enjoying yourself?" Heero replied, rhetorically.  
  
"Of course! I arrested you, put Rediske in for life without bail, and got Wufei to yell at me!" the detective said, surging to his feet suddenly with the rest of the bar as L2 scored another goal. "And the Preventers are beating the piss out of L4!"  
  
"You arrest me every Monday," Heero pointed out, leaning forward on an elbow. "Rediske never had a chance, Wufei always yells at you, and the Preventers beat the piss out of everyone. It's amazing they aren't just handed the trophy at the beginning of the season." He sat back as a pretty blonde waitress set down his bowl of rice and grilled vegetables, thanking her with a smile. "So, did you ask him out?"  
  
Trowa choked on his beer, coughing into a fist as Heero whacked him on the back. "What... ?" he croaked out, clearing his throat to produce better sound. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"You are acting very... odd, to say the least," Heero explained wryly, smirking as his friend flushed around the ears.  
  
"No, I didn't ask him out," the detective stated, looking fixedly at the television.  
  
"But?"  
  
"But," he grinned stupidly, the flush spreading to his face. "I bribed Sally into giving me his number."  
  
Heero laughed at his friend's mixed excitement and embarrassment. Trowa had been working up the nerve to ask out the cook for some time now, but hadn't confessed this to Heero until only recently. Being the good friend he was, Heero had promptly begun pushing Trowa into action. "After all," he'd reasoned to the young detective. "You miss one hundred percent of the shots you never take."  
  
"Well, give him my regards," he said, stretching with a stifled yawn.  
  
"You're heading out already? We aren't even at halftime," Trowa accused with a knowing look.  
  
Heero shrugged, the shadow of a grin playing on his face. "A vigilante's job never ends."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Trowa took another pull from his beer. "Why don't you just join the force, Heero?"  
  
"And disrupt the Monday ritual? Never," he replied jokingly, grinning fully now. "Besides, what would I do with my cape?"  
  
"Whatever," Trowa conceded, returning his attention to the game. "Have fun playing Batman. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, or I'll drag your ass down to the station. Again."  
  
Heero laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, bidding goodnight to his waitress as he headed for the exit. Smoke billowed out into the night when he opened the door, cloaking him cloyingly in the empty blackness of the darkened colony. Looking up, he could just barely see seams of metal where stars should be. Closing his eyes, Heero stood for a moment and let his body relax from the stress born of having sat in lock-up all day.  
  
Being what the law termed a 'vigilante' had its disadvantages. For one thing, it was technically illegal, which is why Trowa dragged him down to the station to be booked every Monday morning. The plus side of that affair was that the detective paid for dinner that night at Shenlong Barbeque and Grill, and they had really excellent rice bowls. Trowa would always ask Heero to quit working the streets as a civilian and join the L2 Police Department, but he always turned the detective down.  
  
Heero belonged to the people, not the police. He fought every day to bring the world to some semblance of peace, though in starting with L2, he had his work cut out for him. The sheer impossibility of completing this 'mission' of sorts never even occurred to Heero. He lived by his emotions, and if his emotions told him to make the Earth and colonies a better place for humanity, he was going to do just that.  
  
Shaking himself into better awareness, Heero turned towards the corner of Virginia and Third stalking into the shadows as he began his nightly rounds. He stopped in his tracks however, when he caught sight of what happened to be on the corner of Virginia and Third, for standing there, bathed in the yellow glow of the street lamp, was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.  
  
Heero didn't see the man's heavy make-up, which made his skin look bland and pasty, nor did he see the strained gauntness that depressed his cheeks and rested in heavy bags beneath his eyes. Instead, he saw the liquid glitter of eyes that sparkled in magnificent splendor, despite the hardships life had thrown their way. He saw the defiant tilt of a chin that dared the world to throw another punch, though she'd already thrown one too many.  
  
He saw, in a word, love.  
  
Moving as if dazed, he walked towards the man, his pace slow and cautious, as if the vision might disappear the moment he came too close. Catching his movement in the dark the man's head snapped towards Heero, their eyes locking even through the darkness. Heero was stunned by the amount of animosity and cold suspicion in that gaze, knowing he was thought a threat when the man stiffened defensively.  
  
Wishing to remove all traces of misgiving from those eyes, Heero started forward again, keeping his pace steady and non-threatening, his hands in plain sight. The man watched him warily, prepared either to fight or fly off into the night. So concentrated were they on the other, they were both startled when a car pulled up beside the corner. Starting in confusion, the man blinked at the car before seeming to come back to himself.  
  
Leaning lasciviously into the passenger window, he spoke briefly with the driver and Heero watched in no small shock as he accepted a credit disk, checked it with a scanner from his coat pocket, and slid into the car. The driver leaned over and the man smiled obligingly, though it was more of a grimace than anything. After a few moments, the car pulled away again, driving off into the night.  
  
Heero stood staring after the car, his long overcoat swaying around him in the makeshift breeze of recycled colony air. His heart longed after the hard eyed man, aching sweetly and paying no heed to the scene that had just transpired. But a part of him wondered.  
  
"A prostitute?"  
  
+  
  
"Forgive me, Mother, for I have sinned."  
  
"Why do you return here, Duo?"  
  
"I thought all were welcome into the house of God? Or does that not include those who sell themselves in His name?"  
  
Mother Helen sighed deeply, her hands worrying the old rosary hanging from her waist. "How can you say that?"  
  
"Can you honestly say that the church would still be here without the money I make?"  
  
She fell silent, trying desperately to assure him that, yes, she would have kept the church from going under, but knew in her heart that whatever words she said now would be a lie. He gave a soft sound resembling laughter in some form, shaking his head derisively. Standing to leave, he lightly ran his fingers along the screen between them, the gesture fond, but sad.  
  
"I didn't think so," he said softly, brushing aside the curtain to the confessional. "Until next time, Mother." She may have made a move to stop him leaving, but he knew in his heart that she would not go after him. The only time they spoke was in the confessional, as she would not so much as look at him anymore.  
  
Walking to the collection box, he kneeled briefly, crossing himself before he rose, placing a portion of the night's earnings into the box. "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum," he whispered, bowing slightly to the Icon as he made his way out of the church. He fished around in a coat pocket until he came up with his sunglasses, squinting against the false colony lighting until they were safely seated upon his nose.  
  
He walked brusquely down the steps, waving briefly to the children playing cards on the sidewalk, amused by the thought of what would happen when Mother Helen caught them. A high whistle sounded from an ally and Duo turned sharply, scowling as he locked eyes with Barton, leader of the Meteors.  
  
"Well if it isn't my little bird," the gang leader taunted, cocking his head. "Never figured you for a churchgoer. Or did you come to give the choirboys a rest?" Barton and his goons howled with laughter, grinning lecherously at Duo.  
  
Ignoring them, Duo walked on, his posture stiff with suppressed anger. "Fuck off, Barton."  
  
"That an invitation?" Barton grinned widely, he and his gang moving to circle him like wolves.  
  
"Even I wouldn't sink that low," Duo growled, shoving his way around him. He hated Barton more than anything in the Earth and colonies combined. It was because of the Meteors and their idiotic gang wars that he was where he was now.  
  
A drive by shooting on the White Fangs had led to the death of Father Maxwell, former head of Maxwell Church. Without him, they'd sunk quickly into debt and were faced with the threat of being evicted, the church destroyed to make a new multi-level parking lot. Unwilling to lose the only home he'd ever known, Duo went back to the streets, returning to a life of pick pocketing before ending up a prostitute. It was then that Sister Helen, now Mother of the church, stopped speaking to him.  
  
Catching his arm roughly, Barton spun him around, jerking Duo back into the here and now. He grabbed Duo's chin in his other hand, bringing their faces together. "I'd watch what I said if I were you, pet. After all, it would be such a shame if anything should happen to your pretty little church." Duo's eyes flickered to the cathedral, where Mother Helen was scolding the gambling children, trying desperately not to look at him. "So how's about you join me for dinner tonight and we'll... talk about your manners."  
  
It wasn't a request and Duo closed his eyes briefly, nodding his assent. Barton laughed in triumph and shoved him roughly backwards, laughing harder when he stumbled to regain his footing. He stood, eyes downcast, as Barton and his gang walked past him, reaching out to grope him and whisper obscenities as they did so. He ignored them, keeping perfectly still until they'd past, their laughter echoing down the alleyways.  
  
When they'd gone, he looked up again, towards the church. Mother Helen was watching him and for a moment it seemed as though she moved forward, wanting to go to him. But, remembering herself, she stopped and turned away. Sighing, Duo did the same.  
  
+  
  
"And then Lucy, she told him that if he didn't pull himself together and get some professional help, she was going to take that damn mask and shove it up his- Oh, Heero! Hello!"  
  
"Good morning, Hilde," Heero greeted the young waitress, seating himself at the counter. "The usual please."  
  
"Of course! Hey Birdman!" she called, turning towards the window between the kitchen and the diner. "Plate of gold! Pronto!" Mille, the cook, stuck his arm out the window to flip her the bird, causing Hilde to laugh uproariously. "So, Heero, you old heartbreaker. How come you haven't taken sweet Lena out for a night on the town?"  
  
"Hilde!" Lena protested from where she was busy bussing a table on the far side of the diner.  
  
"Now, Hilde," Heero scolded, drawing deeply from the coffee she set before him. "You know I'm not good enough for Relena." He took another pull from his drink. "Besides, Milliardo will rip off my arms and beat me with them if I come within ten feet of her." Hilde laughed again and Lena blushed prettily, moving to take the order of a young couple in a nearby booth.  
  
"Alright, then when are you going to take me out on the town, sugar daddy? That is, if you aren't too busy saving the world from purse snatchers." she teased, leaning forward to pout at him.  
  
Heero rolled his eyes with a smile. Ever since Hilde had found out that he was, "so rich, it's disgusting", as she liked to put it, she'd insisted on calling him her sugar daddy. Hilde loved money almost as much as she loved gossip. He waved her off and then sat back, digging into his eggs and half-listening as Hilde began chatting up the local spinsters, who wore cigarette smoke like wreaths around their heads.  
  
When he'd emptied his plate of breakfast, he turned in his chair to gaze out into the street, sipping greedily at his coffee. His eyes flickered over the people on the street observing them as though fascinated by their very presence. Something flickered out of the corner of his eye and he looked over to gaze in shock at the longest hair he'd ever seen.  
  
It was probably three feet in length, russet brown, and plaited together in a tight braid so that it swung like a pendulum with the movement of its owner. Speaking of the owner... he trailed his eyes up the length of hair trying to catch a glimpse whomever the hair belonged to. Heero all but leaped out of his seat as he found that he very much recognized the man with long hair.  
  
"Hilde!" he shouted out, startling the patrons of the diner. She looked up at him in surprise and he pointed at the man. "Do you know who that is?"  
  
Hilde followed the direction of his finger, cocking her head curiously. When she saw whom he was pointing to, her face twisted in disgust. "Who, that tart? He never comes in here. And I wouldn't serve him if he did."  
  
"You should be lucky to have him here," he scolded, frowning at the shocked waitress as he laid credits for his meal on the counter and hurried out of the diner.  
  
+  
  
"Hello," Heero called, slowing to an easier pace when he'd caught up to the longhaired man.  
  
Duo glanced at him briefly before turning away again, picking up his pace a little. "Hi," he replied shortly, inviting no further response.  
  
"My name is Heero. Heero Yuy." Heero kept pace with him, managing to look nonchalant as he did so.  
  
"How nice for you," Duo answered in the same curt tone. Heero followed him for several more yards before Duo turned on him, irritation playing heavily on his features. "What?"  
  
"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" Heero asked in amusement, a small smile on his lips.  
  
He eyed Heero in suspicion before answering. "Duo."  
  
"Duo," Heero repeated, nodding as though in thought.  
  
Duo looked at him for a moment more before turning away. He hadn't gone more than a few feet before he stopped again and whirling around, eyes blazing. "Can I help you with something?" he demanded.  
  
Shaking his head, Heero smiled. "I just want to talk to you, that's all."  
  
"You want to... talk... " Duo repeated, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Heero nodded, causing Duo to scowl deeply at him. "Look, buddy. I don't start work until eight. So do me a favor and just fuck off. I don't have time for sappy customers right now."  
  
A furrow worked its way between Heero's brows as he frowned, partly in confusion and partly from the language. "I'm not a customer," he explained, or tried to, but Duo turned away again.  
  
"Then we have nothing to 'talk' about do we?" Duo replied coldly, stalking away. This time, Heero did not follow, but after a moment he called after the longhaired man.  
  
"I'll see you tonight, then!"  
  
"Don't count on it!" Duo called back, not turning.  
  
+  
  
Ducking into an alleyway, Duo waited several minutes to make sure Heero Yuy wasn't following him. He sighed, partly in relief and partly in frustration when it became obvious that he wasn't. Heero wasn't the first to be enchanted by Duo, and he wouldn't be the last. He hated the idealist types, most of whom were fresh out of college, believing that Duo could give them something more than just sex. But in the end, they were just the same as every other client, taking what they wanted and leaving him with a handful of credits... and whatever else he'd stolen while they laid in post orgasmic slumber.  
  
Starting out into the street again, he made his way through the crowded streets until he reached an area where the crowds thinned out to almost nothing. It wasn't necessarily a bad part of town, though it was inane to say one area was better than another in a piss hole like L2, but people didn't feel the need to hang around the Sweepers territory.  
  
The Sweepers were a gang of street rats, prostitutes, and pickpockets, or as Howard, their leader, liked to call them, "gypsies, tramps, and thieves". Duo had been working for Howard as a Sweeper for six or seven years now, and while Mother Helen might condemn him for it, being a Sweeper was, for the most part, beneficial.  
  
Jogging up the stairway of an aged apartment building, he came to a blood red door on the fifth floor. Knocking twice, he twisted the knob, calling out into the hazy dimness beyond.  
  
"Howard! Hey, Howard! You in?"  
  
A grumble came from somewhere off to the right. "Yeah? What is it?"  
  
"Got last night's earnings for you." Duo slid inside, shutting the door behind him as he sought out the colorful old man hidden somewhere in the shadowed room. Howard had a thing about light before two PM, and even after that, he wore his sunglasses until the lighting shut down completely at eight.  
  
"Really? How much?"  
  
"Couple hundred," Duo shrugged, finding Howard sprawled across his bright yellow and blue print couch. "And some of that hotel shampoo you like. Couldn't swipe you any towels, though. The manager was watching me like a hawk."  
  
Howard grinned at him, adjusting his sunglasses as he sat up to take the proffered disk and hair products. "Not bad, kid! Not bad at all!" He stood and swayed over to a painting of a baboon, swinging it aside and opening the safe to toss in the credit disk. When he turned back, his face had taken a more serious tone, and he looked Duo over critically. "I heard Barton's been giving you shit again."  
  
Duo shrugged, looking away from the old man. "Nothing I can't handle, Howard."  
  
"Hey, kid," Howard began, folding his arms over his brightly patterned chest. "We Sweepers look out for one another, yeah? You don't have to be afraid to ask for help."  
  
Duo shifted, uncomfortable with Howard's protective nature. "Whatever. Look, I've gotta go, alright? See you tomorrow." Moving around Howard, he reached the door and was through in only a few seconds. Howard looked after him, a worried expression on his pointed face.  
  
"Take care of yourself, kid," he whispered to the closed door.  
  
+  
  
That night, Heero waited in the shadows near the corner of Virginia and Third, not wanting to scare off Duo, should he see him waiting there. At first, there had been some part of him that felt guilty for sacrificing his vigil of the streets for his own pleasure, but all thoughts were erased when at last Duo arrived. Duo was nervous and tension all but radiated off his body so that Heero felt nearly overcome with the need to remove that tension, to make Duo feel safe and well. Moving quickly and silently, he came up behind the longhaired man.  
  
"Duo," he said softly once he was close.  
  
Duo twisted around, his eyes wild with something akin to fear. Once he saw Heero, though, he relaxed and glared darkly at him. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded angrily, furious at having been snuck up on.  
  
"I said I'd see you tonight," Heero reminded him, nearly wincing as it came out sounding wrong.  
  
"Yes, well, as nice as it is to have a stalker, I'm working now so if you'd just move right along and stalk some nice actress far away from here, I'd be much obliged," Duo said patronizingly, rolling his eyes. When Heero didn't move, he elaborated. "Did I use too many words? Fuck off, Heero."  
  
"How much?" Heero said after a moments pause.  
  
Duo looked taken aback. "What?"  
  
"How much?" he asked again, and added in afterthought, "For the whole night?"  
  
"You have got to be shitting me." Duo snorted and looked over Heero's attire, from the secondhand overcoat, to the ugly sweater he'd gotten one Christmas, to jeans that had seen better days, and ending with his ugly, yellow boots. "More than you could afford."  
  
"How much?" Heero pressed.  
  
Duo rolled his eyes and said the first ridiculous number that came to mind. "Five thousand."  
  
Heero nodded and pulled out a credit disk and a scanner. "Done."  
  
"Excuse me, what?" Duo said in disbelief, frowning deeply as Heero input his credits into the disk before holding it out in one gloved hand.  
  
"Five thousand, right?" He motioned for Duo to take the disk.  
  
Duo stared at Heero, half expecting him to turn into a pig and fly away. He looked down at the proffered disk before reaching out to take it. He pulled out his own scanner and slid the disk through, mouth falling open slightly when the screen read '5000.00' in neon green print. Suddenly, Barton didn't seem nearly so important anymore.  
  
"Right! Well then, where shall we do this?"  
  
+  
  
Minimalist was a luxurious term compared to the bleak space that was Heero's apartment. There was a kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom with an adjoining half bath, all with white walls and beige trim. The couch was worn and ratty and the most God-awful shade of green imaginable. The small table in the kitchen had only two chairs and was made from a synthetic fiber, painted white to match the walls.  
  
"Nice place," Duo commented mockingly, giving Heero a pointed look.  
  
Heero shrugged, seemingly unembarrassed by his surroundings. "I don't need much," he said by way of explanation, toeing off his shoes by the door.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Duo did the same, bending to undo the three clasps that held each scuffed boot in place. Handing Heero his ancient brown leather jacket, courtesy of an unsuspecting customer, he stretched slightly, ignoring the rising of his too small t-shirt over the top of his too long jeans. One didn't have a great selection of wardrobe when everything you owned was stolen or found.  
  
Heero watched him, his face impassive but for the gleam of amazement in his eyes. Eyeing him suspiciously, Duo spoke, moving to stand in his personal space. "So, where do you want to do this?" he said in an inviting way he knew worked well on his clients.  
  
Heero pointed at the kitchen and Duo looked at him in surprise. "I thought we might start with some fish and rice... I could round up a side of vegetables, if you like. I don't have much in the way of desert... but I could always call into a restaurant and-"  
  
"Heero, what the hell are you talking about?" Duo asked, giving him a guarded look.  
  
"Dinner," Heero said in surprise, as if it were obvious.  
  
"Dinner?" Duo repeated, as if the word were a dirty thing to say. "Look, Heero. I know you paid a lot for this and everything, but I don't do the whole 'wine and dine' thing, okay? So can we just fuck and get it over with?"  
  
Heero looked taken aback. "Duo, I would never think to impose myself upon you!" Duo stared at him in incomprehension, so Heero elaborated. "I didn't bring you here to sleep with you. I would never do that to you. You deserve better."  
  
Duo threw his head back and laughed, but it was an ugly sound, mocking and self-deprecating. "Oh, please, Heero. You don't need to keep up that 'knight in shining armor' act. I know what you want." He moved into Heero's personal space again, pushing himself against the other man. "So why don't you just cut the crap and get to the chase, ne?"  
  
Taking him by the shoulders, Heero pushed him back, shaking his head. "No, Duo."  
  
Duo gave him a look that was somewhere between pissed and apprehensive. "Fine!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands and shoving his way around Heero. He grabbed his coat and jammed his feet in his boots. "If you don't want to play, then I'll find someone who does."  
  
"Wait!" Heero called, coming up behind Duo to place one palm flat against the door. "I paid for the whole night, didn't I? Can't you... can't you stay here for the night?"  
  
"And do what?" Duo asked sarcastically, turning to push at Heero. "Dart your socks and iron your fucking shirts?"  
  
"No," Heero replied gently, brushing back a lock of hair that had come loose from Duo's braid. "Just stay. Stay and talk... or don't, but just... stay."  
  
Duo studied his face, surprised when Heero brushed back his hair. "Why?" he asked after a few moments, a nearly imperceptible tremble in his tone.  
  
"Because I... " Heero trailed off, looking into Duo's brilliant eyes with wonder. How the world could be unkind to such an amazing creature was beyond him. Heero was, in that moment, determined to show Duo that he was loved, and he ran his hand lightly down the longhaired man's arm, grasping his hand before bringing it to his lips. "Because I want you to," he answered at last, and placed a chaste kiss in the center of Duo's palm.  
  
Looking at him wide eyed, Duo stood frozen a moment before snatching back his palm, rubbing it on his jeans in embarrassment. "Fine," he agreed brusquely, not looking at Heero. "But I'm not eating your fucking food."  
  
+  
  
Heero fell asleep on the couch around two AM, after having tried unsuccessfully to talk to Duo for nearly six hours. Duo watched him as he slept, frowning in thought as he tried to figure out the enigma that was Heero Yuy. All night long he had just talked, about everything from the weather to the Preventers, looking at Duo in a way no one had before. As if he were something precious.  
  
"What does he want from me?" he whispered silently to himself, moving away from the kitchen chair he'd been sitting upon. Stretching the kinks out of his body, he walked over to the coat rack, digging around in Heero's pockets until he found the man's credit scanner. Pulling an empty disk from the same pocket, he inserted it into the drive and waited to for the machine to boot up.  
  
He was surprised to find that there was no pass code or identification required and shook his head at Heero's naivety. Opening Heero's credit account, he nearly dropped the damn thing when '69,995,000.00', flashed at him temptingly. He looked from the money sum to Heero and back again in amazement before something else caught his eye.  
  
The account was labeled HeeroYuy04.  
  
"Shit!" he exclaimed in surprise. It wasn't even his main account! He hit the download quickly, pressing a random number when asked how much he'd like to withdraw. Pocketing the disk, he replaced the scanner in Heero's overcoat before pausing, removing the device and placing it into his own ratty jacket. He donned the black duster, which was, although second, or more accurately third hand, still much better than his torn leather coat. He placed his own scanner inside the deep pocket; quickly doing up his boots as the threat of being caught made his ears and neck burn.  
  
He turned, glancing briefly at Heero again before giving him a brief salute of gratitude and walking out the door. "Let's see if he comes after me now," he murmured in an almost smug tone, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Had he looked back again, he might have seen Heero smile at him.  
  
+  
  
"Well you're very nearly floating this morning," Trowa commented dryly when Heero came to see him the next morning. "Nice jacket, by the way. Been to Goodwill again?"  
  
Heero looked down at the worn leather jacket and smiled, petting one of the sleeves with a goofy grin on his face. "No," he answered happily. "This, you might call a gift."  
  
Trowa rolled his eyes knowingly, leaning back in his chair. "So, then. What poor wretch did you save this time to bestow you with such a prize? You didn't call in last night, so it must not have been theft or attempted assault... "  
  
Heero shook his head, his grin fading slightly in guilt. "No, I didn't patrol last night."  
  
The detective's eyebrows shot up so fast it was a wonder they remained on his face. "You... didn't patrol? But... you always patrol! It's gotten to the point where you put in more hours than the whole of the Crimes department! What the hell happened that you would not-" Trowa broke off suddenly, giving Heero a sly look of comprehension. "Heero, you dog! Who's the lucky girl? Or boy, I should say," he added with a wink.  
  
Flushing, Heero grinned broadly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Now, Trowa. A gentleman never speaks crudely of his love."  
  
"Uh-huh. What's his name, wise ass?"  
  
Glowing, Heero replied. "Duo."  
  
"Duo?" Trowa repeated, frowning in thought as the name stuck a chord of memory. "Duo what?"  
  
"Just Duo."  
  
The detective scratched at his neck reflexively as he tried to remember why the name was familiar to him. Then it clicked. "Duo?!" he exclaimed, drawing curious glances from the other detectives in the precinct. "Sweepers Duo?!"  
  
"Sweepers?" Heero said in surprise. He scowled a little in consideration before nodding. "Yes, I suppose so."  
  
"Heero... " Trowa began, fearing that his friend may have finally lost what little sanity he still possessed. "Do you mean to say that you're... dating... one of the most notorious prostitutes in all of L2?"  
  
"No," Heero shook his head. "I'm not dating him. I'm in love with him and wish to spend the rest of my life telling him as much." Trowa stared at him incredulously and Heero shrugged. "There's a difference."  
  
+  
  
"Howard! You decent?" Duo called into the apartment, poking his head around Howard's red front door.  
  
A grumbled reply came from within, followed by a rustle of clothing as Howard, hopefully, made himself presentable. "Yeah... " the old man said sleepily from his couch. "Come on in."  
  
"I've got your cut." Duo waved the disk at him as he shut the door behind him.  
  
Howard instantly became more alive. "Great! How much!"  
  
Shrugging nonchalantly, Duo flipped the bit of plastic in his hands. "Not much," he replied, keeping his face neutral. "Ten thousand or so."  
  
Throwing his head back, Howard laughed in loud bursts, his shoulders heaving. "That's a good one, kid!" he gasped, whipping tears from his eyes.  
  
"If you say so, Howard," Duo said, shrugging again. "I guess you won't be wanting your cut after all." He turned to leave, filled with the urge to grin evilly. He settled for smirking darkly.  
  
"Hey... wait a minute," the pimp wheezed, attempting to get himself back in control. "You serious?"  
  
"No, I'm Duo, and I never lie." He tossed Howard the disk, who caught it, eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
Warily, the old man pulled out a scanner from under the couch, sliding the disk through quickly. His eyes widened comically from behind his pointed sunglasses, his eyebrows and ears following suit until it looked as though his wrinkled face had been stretched back into youth. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water, trying to speak around the dryness of his throat.  
  
"Well!" he managed, flicking his rather bright eyes between the scanner and Duo. "Well... I hope you don't take this the wrong way, kid, but will you marry me?"  
  
Duo let out a harsh bark of laughter, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his new coat and rocking back on his heels slightly. "I take it you're pleased then," he stated smugly. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to steal anything else for you. I hope you're not too disappointed... ?"  
  
"Oh, no," Howard assured him, his eyes firmly glued to the scanner now. "This will do fine!"  
  
"Great," Duo said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He turned to leave, throwing a wave over his shoulder. "I'll just be off then. See you tomorrow, Howard."  
  
"What? Oh... yeah... sure... bye, kid," Howard mumbled distractedly. His head snapped up suddenly as something occurred to him and he leaped off the couch, racing to the door to call out after Duo. "Hey, kid! Keep up the good work!"  
  
He was answered by another bark of laughter. "Yeah, sure Howard."  
  
+  
  
Detective Trowa Bloom drove cautiously through the Sweepers territory, keeping an eye out for not only his quarry, but for the car thieves who were notorious in these parts. They could practically dismantle the car around you and rebuild it around themselves in thirty seconds flat. It was really quite entertaining to see... were you not the one being robbed of your ride.  
  
Trowa had left the precinct only moments after Heero; the former intent on seeking out Duo, while the latter was busy seeking his lawyer. Something about making a change in his will. Trowa hadn't really been listening by that point.  
  
The swirl of a braid on a familiar black trench coat caught Trowa's eye as his target stepped out of an apartment building and onto the street. Rolling down the window, he pulled up beside the man, causing him to start slightly as he turned.  
  
"Hey, copper," Duo said warily as he recognized Trowa, raising his hands defensively. "I've done nothing wrong, so why don't you just keep on moving?"  
  
"Prostitution legal these days?" Trowa asked sarcastically, leaning over to push open the passenger door. "Get in."  
  
"How about, no?" Duo replied just as derisively, rolling his eyes and walking off.  
  
"All right, then you're under arrest." The detective shrugged, making as though to move out of the car.  
  
Duo looked at him acidly, folding his arms tight across his chest. "On what grounds?"  
  
"Besides prostitution? Oh... how about robbery, for one?"  
  
Sneering, Duo got in the car.  
  
+

"I'll have the usual, Sally."  
  
"Sure," the blonde waitress replied, making a little mark on her pad. "And what about you?"  
  
"Oh," Duo said sardonically, his words all but dripping venom. "Nothing for me thanks. I'm just here for the company."  
  
Sally looked at him strangely but Trowa waved her off saying, "He's one of Heero's causes," by way of explanation. Nodding knowingly, Sally left for the kitchen, grabbing empty dishes and depositing bills as she went.  
  
Duo looked at Trowa in a mixture of surprise and sudden comprehension. "You know Heero," he said unnecessarily, looking warily at the detective.  
  
Trowa nodded, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. "That's why I came to find you. You see, Heero's a close friend of mine," the detective explained, offering out a cigarette to Duo, who shook his head.  
  
"I don't smoke."  
  
The detective snorted, fishing a lighter from another pocket. "Yeah, Heero is always nagging me about quitting." They sat in silence for several minutes, Trowa dragging on his cigarette and Duo looking at him expectantly.  
  
"Look," Duo began when the silence got to him, "is Heero pissed about last night? Is that why you're here?"  
  
Arching an eyebrow, Trowa smirked at him smugly. "Why, no. Actually, he was nearly walking on air. Was there a reason for him to be pissed about anything?"  
  
Cursing his stupidity, Duo smiled patronizingly at the detective, speaking from between clenched teeth. "Of course not. How stupid of me to think so."  
  
The detective huffed a bit in amusement before looking seriously at the man across from him, all traces of humor gone from his face. "Are you trying to take advantage of Heero's feelings for you?" he asked bluntly.  
  
"His what?" Duo said in surprise.  
  
"His feelings," Trowa repeated, frowning at Duo. "Because if you think I'm going to sit around and watch you break his heart, you've got another thing coming."  
  
"Look, pal," the longhaired man began angrily, getting to his feet, "I don't know what the hell you're implying, but I didn't come here to be interrogated. I don't like you, I don't like Heero, and I want you both to stay the hell away from me! Why the hell do you hang around with such a nut job anyway?"  
  
Trowa shrugged, indifferent to Duo's agitation. "I like him, he's a good man. Who cares if he's tilting at windmills?"  
  
"Tilting at what?" Duo scowled in confusion, hovering by his chair but not reclaiming it.  
  
"Windmills. It's an old expression. It means that you're... chasing an impractical dream or setting an impossible goal." Trowa sighed at the puzzled look on Duo's face. "I take it you've gathered that Heero is rich?" At his nod, the detective continued. "Well, he's more than rich. He makes rich people look like homeless beggars. But he doesn't spend a damn dime of it on himself, save for things like food and really ugly footwear.  
  
"Have you ever heard of the Wing Foundation?" Duo nodded and Trowa smiled slightly. "You can sit down if you like. That's Heero's personal foundation. He uses it to pour all his money into charities and the like."  
  
"HEERO is the head of the Wing Foundation?" Duo exclaimed, his eyes widening almost beyond capacity. He dropped to his chair, his mouth fixed in an, 'o', of surprise and disbelief.  
  
"I take it you've experienced the benefits of the Foundation?"  
  
"Yeah," Duo replied, still a bit frazzled from the shock. "Probably everyone on L2 has. I only wish it had come around sooner." Shakily, he ran a hand through his uneven bangs letting out a rush of air that ruffled them. "Why does he do it?  
  
"Heero and I are both orphans, so we've been friends since we were kids living at the L2 Covenant House." The detective paused to take a long pull from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a ring around Duo's head. Duo coughed and waved it away irritably. "The only thing Heero remembers about his real parents is that his father once told him to live by his emotions, so ever since then Heero's been trying to make the world a better place."  
  
"That's it? One foggy memory and he's on a mission of world peace?" Duo asked incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. "Heero's even crazier than I thought." Folding his hands together, he rested his head upon them, elbows propped up on the table. For a few moments he seemed to be deep in thought, but he suddenly shook his head as though to clear it and leaned back in his chair.  
  
"Well," he said abruptly, snagging Trowa's beer before downing the whole of it. "As much as I enjoyed the arrest and the life story, I have places to be."  
  
"People to rob?" Trowa commented snidely, looking woefully at his empty glass.  
  
"You know," Duo remarked lightly as he stood to leave, ignoring the detective's jibe. "For a guy who's such a tightwad with cash, he sure spent a hell of a lot on me."  
  
Trowa frowned at this. "Stay away from Heero."  
  
"Keep Heero away from me," Duo countered and without another word, left.  
  
+  
  
It was an uneasy Duo who found himself walking to the corner of Virginia and Third that night. He kept a continual lookout for Heero, glancing over his shoulder and into alleyways. So watchful for Heero was he, that he completely missed Barton until he'd walked straight into the blonde man's arms.  
  
"Well, if it isn't my little bird," Barton hissed hotly in his ear, grabbing his arm roughly. Spinning him around, the gang leader shoved him into a nearby alley.  
  
Tripping over a crack in the pavement, Duo fell hard against the cold cement, wincing as he cut his hand on a broken beer bottle. Turning to face Barton, he scooted further back into the alley, his hand straying towards the butterfly knife in his back pocket as the man stalked menacingly towards him.  
  
"I don't like being stood up," Barton mused coldly, towering over Duo threateningly. "But I suppose I could forgive you... if you apologize nicely." Grabbing him brutally by the hair, Barton yanked Duo forward, but was stopped suddenly when his wrist was twisted violently.  
  
"Let him go." Eyes cold, but blazing, Heero stood in a perfect calm behind Barton, keeping the gang leader's free arm wrenched painfully behind his back. Wincing, the blonde relaxed his hold slightly and Duo jerked backwards, looking up at the pair in amazement. Shoving Barton roughly away, Heero smiled tenderly at Duo offering a hand down to him. "Are you alright?"  
  
Staring at him in bewildered astonishment, Duo nodded reflexively reaching out to take the proffered hand. He hissed sharply as he was reminded of the cut on his palm, grimacing in pain. Dropping his hand immediately, Heero bent to look more closely at the hurt, pulling out a clean handkerchief from his pocket to wrap it gently round the wound. Helping Duo to his feet, he rounded on Barton angrily, but stopped when Duo laid a hand on his arm.  
  
"Leave him," Duo said softly, holding his injured hand against his chest. "Just... leave him." Eyes soft with compassion, Heero nodded and, Duo in hand, left Barton behind to glare menacingly after them.  
  
+  
  
"Are you sure you're alright?" Heero questioned for the thousandth time back at his apartment as he carefully cleaned and wrapped the wound on Duo's hand.  
  
"Yes," Duo said in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "And I swear to God I'll kill myself if you ask me that again."  
  
Heero grinned at him sheepishly, pinking slightly. Applying a last bit of tape, he finished his wrapping, rubbing his thumb lightly over Duo's knuckles before releasing his hand. Duo looked at him strangely, his eyes soft, but puzzled, lit with a faraway glow that shone in the violet depths. Smiling softly, Heero cocked his head curiously.  
  
"What?" he asked, an amused light in his tone.  
  
Duo shook his head. "I'm sorry. I just... thank you," he said quietly, not looking at Heero. "I suppose it's been so long since I was saved that I've forgotten what it feels like." Heero beamed at him and in that radiance, Duo was suddenly afraid. He didn't want Heero to save him. He wanted Heero to use him, just like everybody else.  
  
Leaning into him, Duo lowered his lids in a heated stare, trailing a hand up Heero's arm. "So, then... " he all but purred, mentally wincing at the tone. "Shall I give you your reward?"  
  
Heero pulled away, getting to his feet with an almost sad look on his face. "I've reward enough already," he said softly, but with a degree of finality in the tone.  
  
Claustrophobia swelled in Duo's mind and like an animal cornered, he struck out. "Why?" he demanded fiercely, eyes wide and wild.  
  
"Because I love you," Heero replied simply, as though it were easy a thing to say as, "Good morning".  
  
Duo froze, all emotion draining from his face as his pallor changed from an angry red flush to an almost greenish white. "What?" he asked raggedly, giving a slightly hysterical laugh. "You... you're joking. Right?"  
  
"No, Duo." Heero came back to the table, leaning down to take hold of Duo's uninjured hand. "I'm not joking."  
  
Duo pushed back from the table violently, throwing off Heero's hold. "You can't love me!" he exclaimed, backing away until he was stopped by the couch. "You don't know me!"  
  
"I do, Duo," Heero entreated, leaning towards the disturbed man, but not making as though to move after him. "That's exactly it. I know you. I love you. You can hide behind whatever mask you choose and I'll still love you."  
  
"No," Duo gasped, tearing away from the couch and all but running for the door. He jammed his feet in his boots, not bothering to do them up. He took up his trench coat, but then remembered it was Heero's and flung it at him, taking instead his dusty leather jacket. Jerking open the door, he stepped through it, slamming it behind him.  
  
Heero moved to follow after him, but the door suddenly flew open again as Duo reached inside, grabbed Heero's ugly, yellow boots and hissed, "Don't come for me again!" And, slamming the door again, he was gone.  
  
+  
  
Heero stalked down the streets irritably, flexing his toes inside his stiff new pair of yellow hiking boots. He always kept multiples of the things he liked to keep him from having to shop often, so having Duo steal his shoes was more of an amusement than an inconvenience. Still, he hated breaking in new shoes.  
  
A crash sounded from across the street, causing him to start as he looked up to seek out the source. What he saw had him scowling and making his way across the street in short order, for Barton and a small party of Meteors were busy smashing car windows. They noticed him as he neared and Barton snarled in recognition, starting forward.  
  
"I am hereby placing you under citizen's arrest," Heero said coldly, bringing forth a round of raucous laughter from the gang. "Surrender now peaceably or I will take you down by force."  
  
Still laughing, Barton flipped Heero the bird, standing defiantly before him. "Bring it on, oh valiant knight!" he sneered mockingly, bringing more laughter from his gang.  
  
Heero smirked.  
  
+  
  
Trowa was happy when the call came in that night, if Heero were out on the streets, then he wasn't with Duo. That feeling dissipated when he arrived for pickup, however. Cursing whatever God he'd been pissing off lately, he parked, steeling himself for a confrontation before stepping out of the car.  
  
"Heero... " he began almost pleasantly, as though nothing were wrong, "where are the keys to the handcuffs?" Heero jingled them at him before tossing the ring at the officer. "Thanks." Turning to the mass of bodies handcuffed together around a lamppost, he tried to smile in what he considered an appeasing manner, looking regretfully at the various cuts and bruises marking the son of L3's most powerful politician.  
  
"I'm really very sorry about all this, Mr. Barton," the detective lied soothingly as he began unlocking handcuffs quickly.  
  
"When my father hears about this," Barton began barking at him, rubbing his wrists and glaring fiercely, "you're going to be much sorrier, detective!"  
  
"I understand completely, Mr. Barton, but surely, we can just write this off as a misunderstanding? I'm sure Heero didn't mean to cause any-"  
  
"Like hell he didn't! Your precinct is going to hear about this! If you're allowing this maniac to run around terrorizing upstanding citizens of L2, then perhaps it's time the police department began running under new management," Barton stated, the threat not in the least bit concealed.  
  
"I understand, Mr. Barton," Trowa said again, smiling from between clenched teeth. He waited for Barton and his gang to get out of earshot, yowling and whooping as they went, then, snorting, muttered, "Upstanding citizen my ass."  
  
"What the hell did you just do, Trowa?" Heero demanded angrily, standing in front of the detective completely aghast.  
  
"Heero." Trowa sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "Do you have any idea who that was?"  
  
"A criminal?" Heero stated obviously.  
  
"Yes, and the worst in L2, but that's not the point. That," he said, pointing off in the direction Barton and his gang had wandered, "is the son of Dekim Barton, Heero."  
  
"The politician? What should that matter?"  
  
"Because Dekim Barton could buy and sell this colony, Heero," Trowa explained tiredly.  
  
"So could I," Heero pointed out, folding his arms crossly.  
  
"Yes, but you wont and Dekim will. And he's just been waiting for an excuse to."  
  
"So that's it?" he said in disbelief, looking at his friend as though having never seen him before. "You wont lock him up because you're afraid he might run and tell Daddy?"  
  
"Oh fuck off, Heero. It's more complicated than that," Trowa exclaimed in exasperation.  
  
"I'm sure it is," Heero replied snidely, turning away from his friend. "You know, Trowa, you should try sticking your head further up his ass next time. I don't think he could feel you kissing it."  
  
+  
  
Duo was in a right state when he left for the church the next morning, enough so that he'd ended up putting on twice the usual amount of make-up to hide the tired gauntness darkening his face. He hadn't particularly wanted to go and would have preferred staying holed up in his nice dark apartment, but he had yet to give the church Heero's stolen money. He'd wanted to melt the damn disk and rid himself of the memory, but the church was worth more than his need to sever himself from Heero.  
  
Unfortunately, severing himself from Heero was going to be harder than he'd anticipated, for when he turned the corner from Pennsylvania Avenue to G Street, he ran headlong into him. Toppling backwards in shock, he was saved from a nasty spill on the concrete by the circle of Heero's arms.  
  
"Duo!" his 'savior' exclaimed in surprise. Pulling away roughly, Duo pushed straight past Heero, ignoring him completely as he walked speedily down the street. Heero followed, keeping pace with him. "Duo, wait!"  
  
"Go away, Heero," Duo bit out coldly, his fists clenched. His eyes were beginning to burn for some reason and he blinked furiously, trying to clear them.  
  
"No, Duo. It's not safe for you out here. Barton is out for-" Heero stopped suddenly, grabbing Duo's arm to halt his progress as well.  
  
Turning on him violently, Duo opened his mouth to speak, or yell rather, but froze at the look on Heero's face. "Heero?" he questioned worriedly.  
  
"Smoke," Heero spoke, his tone hushed.  
  
For a moment, Duo frowned in confusion, but his face went slack with shock as he registered the haziness around them, stinging at his eyes. Along with the recognition of smoke came the realization of the awful stench coating his throat with every breath. The smell of smoke, yes, but more importantly, the smell of burning flesh.  
  
He could smell the scent of death.  
  
"Oh God," he whispered, feeling sick with anxiety and a dreadful knowing. He turned, feeling as though time had slowed around him. The haze grew thicker ahead, almost to the point of being opaque and through the pale miasma, he could see a faint flickering of flames. "No!"  
  
Heero called after him as he tore off towards the burning church, but neither angels in heaven nor demons in hell could have kept him back. He ran full tilt, his hair snapping behind him almost as if it were the whip that drove him. When he reached the fiery temple his tortured mind fed him the cries of agony above the roar of flames, though if anyone were indeed alive, they would not have the air to scream.  
  
He lunged for the building, fully intending to break down the burning doors when he was tackled from behind. Struggling under the weight of Heero, he watched as the roof suddenly gave out, causing a spray of fiery debris to rain upon them. Duo cried out in anguish, going limp beneath Heero as desperation began fading into shock.  
  
Shielding Duo from the flaming wreckage, Heero pulled the man away from the airless heat of the fire, whispering nonsensical words of comfort. A symphony of sirens pierced through the roar of the flame and Heero turned to see the flash of red and blue in the haze.  
  
+  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Heero looked up at his childhood friend, eyes angry and sad. "Better then Duo." He motioned to where the longhaired man was being checked over by paramedics. "Are you nearly finished with him? I'm going to take him home."  
  
"We have his statement," Trowa affirmed and rubbed a hand over the back of his head, cracking it slightly. "You know where he lives?"  
  
Heero shook his head and gave the detective a look that quite plainly asked for help. With a sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes, Trowa pulled a slightly crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket. On it was written the address of an apartment in the Sweepers territory. Heero took it in surprise, not having expected his friend to have the address on him, much less give it up so easily.  
  
Before he could ask, Trowa answered his query. "I thought you might want it. Figured it would make a good peace offering."  
  
"Trowa... about what I said yesterday... " Heero said, a pained expression on his face.  
  
The detective waved him off, nudging Heero with his shoulder. "Forget about it. I wasn't exactly at my best either."  
  
Heero smiled, but it came off as more of a grimace. Returning his attention to Duo, he frowned sadly. "Is he okay to walk?" he asked uneasily, noticing the slight tremble of Duo's shoulders.  
  
"I'm not a damn medic, Heero," the detective exclaimed in exasperation. "Take my car. Just... return it in one piece in the morning." Heero nodded with an easier smile, accepting the keys before moving to claim Duo.  
  
+

"This is my apartment," Duo said distractedly when they arrived. His expression was remote, disconnected from the world around him.  
  
"Yes, Duo," Heero replied reflexively, finding the key in Duo's jacket pocket.  
  
Unlocking the door, he swung it open, gently leading Duo inside. He brought him to a blue moth-eaten excuse for a couch, sunken and stained with time. Depositing his charge there, he went into the bathroom, rifling through cupboards until he found a clean washcloth among a collection of hotel towels. Running the warm water, tinted brown and sputtering, he wet down the rag, squeezing out the excess drip.  
  
Rejoining Duo, he brought the cloth to his face, wiping away grime and make-up with the slow, tender care born of love. Duo remained silent through the cleaning, but his eyes cleared slightly.  
  
"There," Heero said softly as he finished, brushing back Duo's damp bangs. "No need for you to hide."  
  
Getting to his feet, he took the washcloth back into the bathroom, rinsing it out before depositing it on top of a pile of dirty towels. Back by the couch, he knelt before Duo, undoing the buckles of his boots before carefully pulling them off. That done, he stood, snagging a nearby afghan before sitting beside the forlorn man, wrapping the blanket around him tenderly.  
  
"We used to draw on the walls," Duo whispered suddenly, startling Heero.  
  
"What?" he asked gently, leaning into him for comfort, as much for himself as for Duo.  
  
"The walls," Duo repeated, trancelike. "We would draw on them. There wasn't money for windows, so we drew in our own, giving us a view of whatever or wherever we wanted. If only-" He stopped, gasping for air before continuing. "God... if only she'd used the money I gave her for windows. They could have gotten out... broken the glass."  
  
"Duo... " Heero whispered painfully, drawing the distressed man against him.  
  
Clutching to his shirt like a lifeline, Duo pressed his face into Heero's neck, his breath ragged and gasping. "They were only babies, Heero! They were babies and he killed them! I should have-"  
  
"No, Duo," Heero cut him off, pulling away slightly to look deep into Duo's glassy eyes. "It is not your fault. You are a good man."  
  
"I'm not." Duo shook his head vigorously, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
Cupping the side of his face, Heero brought Duo's head back up, gently rubbing a thumb over the anguished man's cheek until he opened his eyes again. "You are," Heero assured him, softly but firmly. Leaning in he places a chaste kiss to Duo's forehead before pulling back once more, smiling tenderly at him.  
  
Duo felt an odd clench in his heart and he looked at Heero in wonder, as though never having really seen him before. Grasping weakly at that feeling, Duo, for the first time in his life, followed his emotions. Tilting into Heero, he kissed him, brushing their lips together with an affection he'd forgotten.  
  
But Heero pushed him gently away.  
  
"No, Duo," Heero said softly, just as he had twice before.  
  
Eyes sharp with hurt, Duo pulled away entirely, pushing himself backwards until he could no longer feel the warmth of Heero's body. "Get out," he said, his voice low and cold. Heero opened his mouth in protest, reaching out towards him but Duo jerked away sharply. "GET. OUT."  
  
Heero hesitated a moment longer, but quickly got to his feet as Duo hurled a chipped coffee mug at him. "Duo-" he tried to calm the longhaired man, but was cut off when one of his boots, from the pair Duo had stolen no less, came sailing at his head.  
  
"GET OUT!" Duo roared at him, throwing the other boot. Heero made for the door and Duo followed, the disk containing the remainder of Heero's stolen money in hand. Once Heero was in the hallway, Duo flung it at his head, feeling a surge of angry satisfaction when it nailed him between the eyes. "I never want to see you again, Heero!"  
  
Without another word, he slammed the door, taking a few shaky breaths as he listened for the sound of Heero's footsteps, slow and hesitant, walking away. Turning, Duo leaned against the door, sliding down it until he could wrap his hands around his knees. Letting out an uneasy breath, he cursed the day he'd met Heero Yuy, who could twist and turn his heart until it bled and ached in a way it hadn't done since the death of Father Maxwell.  
  
That had been the last time he cried as well, but even now his eyes watered with emotion. He swallowed them back, adamantly refusing to let the tears fall. Taking a deep breath, he straightened, freezing his heart and emotions until he felt more like himself again. Sitting there in the familiar gloom of his apartment, a single blazing thought burned into his mind, fueled by the memory of the building which had once been his home and the people who had once been his family.  
  
Barton would pay.  
  
+  
  
"I want Barton off the streets!" Heero demanded later that day, slamming his hands down on Trowa's desk. After the episode with Duo that morning, the last of his control had snapped, leaving him angry and hurt, drained of all but the want of justice.  
  
"So does the rest of L2. We've gone over this, Heero," Trowa replied, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.  
  
"And we'll keep going over it until Barton is behind bars!"  
  
"What the hell do you expect me to do?" Trowa shouted, getting to his feet. "Send out a team to take him out? Put a bounty on his head? Because right now, nothing short of death is going to stop him!" Regaining his composure, Trowa sighed and sat back down. The precinct, which had fell silent at the detective's outburst, slowly buzzed back to life. Sighing, Trowa pinched the bridge of his nose before looking sadly at his friend.  
  
"Look, Heero, I wish the world could live up to your standards, but it just doesn't work that way. The world runs on two things; power and money, and Dekim Barton has both. So unless something concrete comes through, Barton is untouchable."  
  
"Concrete?" Heero asked, running a hand through his shaggy hair.  
  
Trowa nodded. "We've got nothing to tie Barton to the church. No evidence, no witnesses, nothing. Not only that, Barton has an alibi, which happens to be none other than Big Daddy Dekim, himself." He sat back and lit a cigarette, puffing on it slowly. "Basically, all we have is your word and the testimony of some whore."  
  
"Duo is not 'some whore'," Heero said in a soft, but dangerous tone.  
  
"Sorry," the detective replied, his voice toneless. "Look, you should go. I've got work to do."  
  
Heero stared at him a moment more, his face blank. "Fine." He stood, not looking at Trowa. "Justice will be served, Trowa. It must be served."  
  
"Don't do anything stupid, Heero. The last thing we need right now is another body."  
  
+  
  
"HOWARD!" Duo bellowed into the dark apartment, charging through the door and slamming it behind him with a bang.  
  
Howard looked up in shock from where he was currently entertaining a girl who looked young enough to be his daughter... or even granddaughter, by the looks of it. "Duo? What the blazes-?"  
  
"I quit! I'm out! Where the fuck do you keep your pistol?" he demanded from where he was busily yanking open drawers.  
  
"In the safe, but what the hell do you need a pistol for? And what do you mean you quit? You don't just quit!"  
  
Stalking over to the safe, Duo jerked open the picture frame, grabbing at the pistol within before checking it, loading it, cocking it, and aiming it at Howard. "Shall I give you my two weeks notice?" Duo spat venomously.  
  
Howard raised his hands, shaking his head quickly from side to side. "No, that'll do fine. It was nice knowing ya. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."  
  
+  
  
Heero walked brusquely up the stairs to Duo's apartment, unwilling to wait for the rickety elevator. His heart was filled with a sense of dreadful foreboding and he was suddenly reluctant to leave Duo alone, despite whatever the man might wish. Coming up to the door of his apartment, Heero raised his hand to knock before noticing that the door was already open.  
  
The feeling of foreboding swept over him at full force and he flung the door open with a bang, eyes traveling wildly over the interior of the apartment. A skinny kid with green hair and a nose ring came running out of the bedroom, brandishing a wooden bat as though he feared his life were at stake. Heero charged the boy, disarming him of his bat and twisting his arm behind him, holding him against a wall.  
  
"Who are you? What are you doing here? Where's Duo?" Heero demanded, speaking loud and fast.  
  
"Hey, man, cool your jets!" the kid cried out, struggling a little. "I live here, man!"  
  
"What? What are you talking about? Where's Duo?" he pressed, squeezing the boy's arm painfully.  
  
"Ow! I don't know where Duo is! He quit this morning, but the apartment belongs to the Sweepers, so Howard let me to move in! That's all I know, man, I swear!"  
  
"He quit?" Heero repeated in confusion, slackening his hold slightly, but not breaking it. Remembering the bat, his eyes widened in realization. "You thought I was Duo... You were... afraid, that I was Duo."  
  
The boy nodded jerkily. "He went crazy, man! Broke in and stole Howard's pistol!" he cried, shaking like a leaf.  
  
Releasing him, Heero backed away, wild with anxiety, but settling into a professional calm. "Kid, take my advice. Go home. Go home, or find a shelter." He shook his head tiredly, turning for the door. "You shouldn't have to sell yourself to survive."  
  
He left the building at a run. After the incident with Trowa, Heero had spent the night tailing the Meteors, but turned left in the early morning hours when he became sloppy... giving them time to start a fire. Still, he knew enough of the haunts and hangouts to help him now. He knew where Duo was headed.  
  
+  
  
Barton tossed down another winning hand, bringing forth a chorus of curses and anguished groans as he pulled in the kitty. He laughed boisterously, shoving his cards over to the new dealer before organizing his newly won cash. His laughter was cut short suddenly as a gunshot rang out through the warehouse. Looking up, startled, he scowled when he caught sight of Duo.  
  
"You again?" he sneered, pushing back from the table. "Come to play?"  
  
Duo brought the firearm around from the wall at which he'd fired, aiming it at Barton. "Anyone without a death wish or an extreme love for this man should leave now," he stated coldly, eyes unwavering from where they locked with Barton's. Surprisingly, all five of the Meteors there got up and left, drawing an indignant shout from their leader. Duo smiled darkly, cocking his head slightly. "Loyal followers you've got there, Barton."  
  
"So what now? Going to kill me, pet?" he jeered, though a breath of fear and desperation colored the confidence in his voice. He glanced briefly at his own gun, resting on the card table, but made no move to grab it. "Face it, in the end, you're just like me."  
  
"I'm nothing like you," Duo spat, his hand tightening on the pistol.  
  
Barton let out an ugly bark of laughter, tossing his head back. "No?"  
  
"No," Duo assured him. His eyes softened slightly in sad remembrance. "I'm a good man."  
  
"Duo! Stop!" Heero's voice rang out across the warehouse. He was leaning against a side door, panting heavily with exertion.  
  
Duo didn't take his eyes off Barton, but his hand wavered slightly. "Go away, Heero. This doesn't concern you," he said calmly.  
  
Pushing himself off the doorframe, Heero walked shakily towards them, moving to stand directly between the two. "You can't do this, Duo," he stated firmly, looking down the barrel of the gun at the longhaired man.  
  
"Why not, Heero?" Duo demanded, a fine tremble starting up his arm. "He deserves it! You know he does!"  
  
"Yes," Heero agreed, startling Duo. "But not from you, Duo. Never from you." Shaking his head in bewilderment, Heero looked away. "Trowa tells me that it's impossible... that he can't be brought in to face justice... and I can't understand why. Why should money make the man? Are we so corrupt as to let villains walk free because they have the power to inspire fear with their wealth?"  
  
Heero shook his head again, as though to cast away his mental demons. "Perhaps he'll never face judgment. But you cannot cancel evil with evil, Duo. That only creates more evil."  
  
"Heero... " Duo whispered painfully, his arms slowly falling to hang limply at his sides.  
  
A gunshot rang once more through the warehouse, though this time the target was not a wall. Heero looked in surprise at the blood flowering on his shirt, his legs giving out beneath him.  
  
"HEERO!" Duo cried out, the firearm falling with a clatter from nerveless fingers as he ran forward, collapsing at Heero's side.  
  
Heero coughed, blood bubbling forth from his suddenly pale lips. "Then... is it all... just a dream?" he gasped, pain wracking his body. "Does humanity... no longer wish to be saved?"  
  
"Hush," Duo whispered softly, gently brushing away his bangs. "Save your strength." Tears welled in Duo's eyes but did not fall.  
  
"Duo... " Heero breathed, reaching up to run his fingers along the side of Duo's face. "Was I wrong? Was it... was it a fools quest?"  
  
"No, Heero," Duo assured him, grasping at Heero's hand. "You were right. You were right about everything. You... you saved me, Heero."  
  
Heero smiled beatifically at him, weakly squeezing his hand. "I'm glad," he managed weakly, blood trailing from his lips. "I love you."  
  
Duo squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear leaking from them to fall upon Heero's face. "I know," he whispered in acknowledgement, heart breaking and mending with a deep wrenching pain. He watched as Heero, face pale but for the crimson coloring his lips, closed his eyes, body going slack as death pulled her shroud upon him. "I know... "  
  
The barrel of Barton's gun, still warm with Heero's death came to rest upon his temple. Duo looked up, vision blurry with tears, into the crazed eyes of the blonde gang leader. Grinning wildly, Barton said something, but Duo couldn't hear it, deaf from the ringing in his ears. He felt more than heard the gunshot as it reverberated through this body and he closed his eyes, expecting death.  
  
None came.  
  
He opened his eyes in confusion to stare blankly at the place where Barton had been. Looking down, he studied the body there in puzzlement, taking slow notice of the neat hole marring Barton's forehead. Turning he was surprised to find Detective Trowa Bloom standing in the side doorway, gun raised and smoking slightly. The world snapped back into place, the ringing in his ears ending suddenly to reveal a silence broken only by his own harsh breathing.  
  
"Duo... " Trowa began shakily, eyes flicking across the body he held, "Heero... is he-?"  
  
Duo looked down at Heero's peaceful, but lifeless face. Heero... who had never used him, nor condemned him... who had never looked down upon him... Heero... who had treated him kindly and spoke to him tenderly... Heero, who had loved him unconditionally, was dead.  
  
And Duo, after years of icy abandonment, released his heart in a flood of tears.  
  
+  
  
I wore no black to his funeral. I knew he would have hated to see me in mourning garb. I wondered if it would have amused him when it caused quite a stir among his friends to see not only a prostitute, but a prostitute that dared to wear a colorful ensemble borrowed from a pimp. Of course, the fact that I was technically no longer a prostitute didn't factor in to their little black and white worlds.  
  
Strangely enough, the funeral took place on Earth, so they could bury Heero atop a grassy knoll. I imagine the affair must have cost a pretty penny. Heero was probably rolling in his grave.  
  
After the ceremony, Trowa approached me, his eyes red rimmed and glassy. At first, he just stood there, looking at me in a way that almost seemed accusatory, but he had the good taste not to say as much. After all, that look may not have been wholly reserved for me; he'd been only minutes too late. "He left most everything to you," he told me unnecessarily.  
  
"I know," I replied, staring off of the hill where they'd planted Heero.  
  
For a few moments, he stood silent but for the occasional sniffle. "What are you going to do now?" he asked, and I could tell that he was looking at me closely now.  
  
"Me, Trowa?" I said and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I smiled, truly smiled. Still smiling, I looked over at him, amused by the look of shock he wore at the transformation of my glower. Looking away again, I looked up to where heaven might be, amazed by the richness of a real sky. It seemed to me I saw a faint glimmer of hope on the horizon, and I smiled all the more brightly. Closing my eyes to capture that moment forever, I answered.  
  
"I'm going to dream."

~*~FIN~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The prayer Duo says when he leaves the church is 'Hail Mary' in Latin. The full version is, "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen." That translates to, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and in the hour of our death. Amen." Go Internet... You can find anything.)


	2. original plot bunny

**The Impossible Dream  
**  
Whoa, is this one ever complicated, which is part of the reason I could never tackle it. I have problems writing for length, and this promises to be a doozy, at least in terms of content. To get at what I want to get across will take time and herculean amounts of effort. Have I scared you off yet? Don't worry. By the time I get finished explaining this I'll have you running for the hills.  <insert maniacal laughter here> Based on Cervantes' Don Quixote, yes, but [The Man of La Mancha](http://www.musicalheaven.com/m/man_of_la_mancha.shtml) (TMoLM) is a horse of an entirely different colour...  
  
main character: Heero as Don Quixote; Duo as Dulcinea _\--_ these are the only two I have set in my mind, the rest are up for grabs and it is not necessary that every character in TMoLM have a counterpart as _THIS IS NOT A FUSION OR CROSSOVER_ ; _could_ be Duo POV, but might work better in third person narrative  
  
type: angst (duh. ^_~ watching TMoLM always makes me cry... )  
death fic (double duh, of Heero)  
pairings _\--_ 1+2, eventual 2+1 (see below)  
medieval shounen ai-ness _\--_ Heero falls in love with Duo, but he places him on a pedestal, something which baffles, frustrates, and in the end makes Duo bitter-sweetly happy because he has never been wanted for anything other than his body (this would be the "to love pure and chaste from afar" part). While, for Heero, meeting Duo is nothing less than love at first site, Duo greets Heero's initial overtures with disdain and mistrust since he's never been treated with unconditional kindness and respect before (or since Sister Helen and Father Maxwell, if you feel a need to include them). Duo doesn't truly believe what Heero feels for him until the end, as Heero lays dying.   
OOC _\--_ depending on how you look at it. After all, if Heero and Duo had grown up differently, they would themselves be different from what we "know", ne? In this case, Heero would actually be living by the advice that he gave Trowa _\--_ to live according to his feelings, and he would have always lived that way. As for Duo... there are two ways (at least) to view how living through the horrors of his childhood would have left him. One is as his strong, cocky, self-assure self who figures he's seen hell already, lived through it, and has decided that he can take on all comers and do it laughing. The other, which would be used in this instance, is a boy who is just as strong, but also battered, bruised, and distrustful _\--_ more like Spooks' 02 from her brilliant and heartrending 'Cadence of Time'.  
AU _\--_ a lot or a little...  
  
plot: This one is pretty obvious, all thing considered, although not as obvious as you might think. Seeing as how _THIS IS NOT A FUSION OR CROSSOVER_ (am I getting my point across, here? heh... ), the plot is pretty open. This could be set in the past, but I see it more of a contemporary story. It could even be an AU Gundam fic, which has some _very_ interesting possibilities.  
  
general idea: Although I want this based on TMoLM, it's really only half of it that I'm focused on _\--_ the story that Cervantes tells while he's in prison, the tale of Don Quixote (which is different from the book). The basis for this whole thing is Heero fighting for what he feels, and knows, is right, even when others might turn a blind eye to what's going on. It's about him dedicating his very existence to putting not only "dreaming the impossible dream", but fulfilling it. Nothing is more important to him. There is no need for a "Sancho" character. Heero is no deluded wacko wandering around foisting at windmills _\--_ what he's fighting is a real thing, only so overwhelming that everyone else has given up trying to change or beat it (whatever 'it' is...). His peers and associates, even Duo, think him foolish for even trying. His faith never wavers, until the end when Duo gives it back to him. Duo (as a _male_ , people. female Duo's are just _wrong_...) is either a prostitute or a thief (or both) _\--_ someone who has been down so long that he has no idea there is an 'up', someone who has been treated like filth by everyone. He is deemed the lowest of the low, even though he has a kind heart (that's been trampled on a bit and is nearly broken) and a strong spirit. He is a survivor, even when he doesn't know what exactly it is that he's surviving _for_. He no longer believes in happy endings or that the good guy finishes first. He is bitter and unsmiling, having no reason to smile. In the end, it no longer matters whether or not Heero has succeeded in reaching "the unreachable star" (which he doesn't). What matters is that he has changed one mans' life _\--_ he has given hope, faith, and love back to one who had lost himself to despair so long ago that he he didn't even remember another way of living (this would be Duo). So I suppose the ending is bitter-sweet, then, since Duo now has a belief to fight for and a dream of his own, that he has taken up from Heero.  
  
bunny wranglers: Kitty Chou _\--_ Tilting at Windmills [ sept 03 ]

\------------------

The Impossible Dream (Lyrics by Joe Darion, Music by Mitch Leigh)  
  
To dream the impossible dream,  
to fight the unbeatable foe,  
to bear with unbearable sorrow,  
to run where the brave dare not go.  
  
To right the unrightable wrong,  
to love pure and chaste from afar,  
to try when your arms are too weary,  
to reach the unreachable star.  
  
This is my quest,  
to follow that star --  
no matter how hopeless,  
no matter how far.  
  
To fight for the right  
without question or pause,  
to be willing to march into hell for a  
heavenly cause.  
  
And I know if I'll only be true to this  
glorious quest  
that my heart will be peaceful and calm  
when I'm laid to my rest.  
  
And the world will be better for this,  
that one man scorned and covered with scars  
still strove with his last ounce of courage.  
To reach the unreachable stars.


End file.
